Something Like Silk
by Laur-the-ficster
Summary: A new girl comes to Xavier's school with a dark past filled with hatred and sorrow. Her grief and demeanor scares all the others away from her, except for one boy, who is willing to put his first love on the line for her.
1. The Day it All Began

Author: Laur Dedication: The resident X-Men buff, Kati, for being the best.  
  
"Hold my hand." His voice purred. The long slender fingers of his hand uncurled and extended them to the girl before him.  
  
She stared at the floor, she could feel him staring at her. Smiling at her. This was the first time that she couldn't understand her powers. Was he sincere? Or was this a joke to him? She couldn't tell.  
  
"Joanna." He extended his arm out further. "Don't be afraid. I would never do anything to you." He knew not to touch her, unless she told him to.  
  
Joanna rocked her balled-up body back and forth on the floor. She had to concentrate. Was he for real? Would he ever hurt her? Her violet eyes roamed from the floor and traveled slowly up the boy's arm and looked into face. His features were smooth and kind. How could she not trust him? He was right in front of her. This was real. But a lot of other things from the past had felt real, and they never turned out right.  
  
"Listen." He said softly, kneeling down at her side. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too!" He laughed. "We can be scared together." He rose and placed his hand out once more, a gentle smile grazed his lips. "I don't want you to be alone in this. I don't want you to be alone at all."  
  
Now what? she thought. It wasn't supposed to be like this. People weren't supposed to be like this. Her eyes never moved from his face and smile. And soon, she could feel herself smiling, and crying. Maybe this is why I feel for him the way I do.  
  
Joanna grasped his hand and brought herself to her feet. When she gained her balance, she was right in front of him, chest to chest. She tried to move her hand to her side, but he still had a firm grip on it. "Bobby." She whispered. He smiled at the mention of his name.  
  
"Yes?" He was hopeful, a hint of excitement was behind his voice.  
  
"What are we doing?" Joanna asked.  
  
"I don't know." He laughed again. It amazed her how he never seemed troubled by anything. Like the world was some big joke worthy or laughing at. Bobby's hand moved some of the wavy black hair that lay on her shoulder away behind her neck, and he rested his hand on there. It was so long since she allowed herself to be near him, she had forgotten how good his skin felt next to hers.  
  
He had forgotten about it too. He stared at his hand, questioning himself about the ballsy decision he made to touch her. But his next decision, that required more courage than just a hand to the shoulder. He leaned into her, his chest brushing against her breasts. They were eye-level, just staring for moment. Their breaths combining with each other only a few centimeters from their faces. Bobby moved in, and kissed her cheek softly. The kisses grew stronger as they moved downward, across her face, down her neck, and to her shoulder. Joanna closed her eyes and took in everything. His smell, his lips, his sensations --  
  
They were back! The emotions! Those sensations balling up inside her stomach and came shooting up through her arms, through her neck, and up to her head, making it pound. She swam in everything for a moment trying to sort through all the feelings of anguish and contempt, but then a few blissful seconds in between of overwhelming joy and pure ecstasy. It was too much for her to handle. She still, after all this time could not figure out what was the truth and what was fiction; she could never truly trust all that she saw, even though it had never been wrong before.  
  
Joanna's eyes popped open and she used all her strength to push him away from her. "I can't do this!" she shouted. "I can't keep doing this! I don't know what this is." She turned away from Bobby and dug her tear-streamed face into her crumpled hands.  
  
Bobby tried to understand. He knew that this wasn't easy for her. This was the first time since...since her family that she let anyone in. But it was still frustrating. As much as he tried to be there, those walls around her were like titanium lined with brick. They weren't moving until she let them, no matter what he did. He outstretched his arm to put a comforting hand on Joanna's shoulder, but she spun around before he got anywhere near her.  
  
"How do I know this is real?" She shouted. "How do I know that this is something that I can trust?"  
  
"HOW CAN YOU THINK THIS IS ANYTHING BUT?!" He returned a split second later. The frustration was reaching its breaking point. Joanna pulled back. She had never heard him respond like this...ever. "Why would I try? Why would I bother unless this meant something?"  
  
"Joanna." His voice was still rough. He began to pace back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. "What do I have to do to show you? Your powers aren't everything. Not everyone in the world has a special gift to let them know how everyone in the world feels about them." The last few anger filled words caused him to wave his arms in the air, stressing the importance of what he was saying.  
  
Joanna turned away from him and she braced herself again the wall. His words were daggers. Not just because they were hurtful, but because they were true. Not everyone had her "gift", but something that should have helped her only made her more indecisive, even unsure of herself. How could she be sure that she could rely on others when she couldn't even trust herself? There was always a battle. Her mind, her heart, her powers, all in competition with one another. Her powers showing her everything she would experience. Her mind picking up the bad, waving a red flag in front of everything and constantly ringing. This is a bad idea. This should not happen. But then her heart took all those happy moments and told her that this was it. Everything that she had been waiting for, everything she had ever wanted was standing in front of her, just waiting to be embraced...and never let go.  
  
A firm hand spun her around and knocked her back against the wall. Bobby's ice blue eyes were wet...and distressed. "What can you not see in me? What am I doing that makes you so unsure of everything we have?" His fist hit the wall to the right of her face. He was so drained, everything about him was breaking down trying to fight this, to show her. He wanted to give Joanna the world.  
  
"Bobby." She squeaked. "You're scaring me." The tension in Bobby's body lessened, her leaned against the wall, his head floating above her trembling shoulder. She moved her hand from her side and went slowly to touch his face. Her hand went past his cheek and rested on the back of his neck and pulled him in close to her shoulder.  
  
He followed and fell into her, throwing his arms around her body and feeling his legs buckle beneath his weight. She held him and didn't let him fall. She threw her other arm around his back, and the two lovers just stood in the dark, both exhausted and afraid. They didn't want to let go. Both Bobby and Joanna knew that the minute they stopped holding one another, everything would be gone, and they would have to start over again from scratch.  
  
[6 months earlier] Maple Valley Rd. in Syracuse in upstate New York was always known for being a street centered on the family. Green bushes full of brightly colored flowers dotted all the houses along the road, each house painted in a hue that showed comfort and beauty without being too ostentatious. In number 17, an off-white Dutch Colonial house at the end of the road across from the street's playground lived the Blackwell family. They were a well-respected family within the community. Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell were members of the town council, while their youngest son Arthur was active on the high school's track and baseball team. Joanna, their eldest daughter was the school's star performer in the plays and within the chorus. The oldest son, Roger was in Rhode Island, attending Brown University Medical School. They were just as normal and unsuspecting as every other family in Syracuse.  
  
April 24 The Blackwell home was filled with the wonderful smell of waffles, as it was most Saturday mornings. Anna Blackwell, the woman of the house was busy in front of the waffle iron, making the perfect Belgian orbs that the family had looked forward to every weekend morning. On the table in the center of the kitchen stood a vase with freshly cut flowers and a small green box decorated with a brightly colored blue bow. Today was Joanna's 16th birthday.  
  
Anna hummed softly to herself as she waited for her children and husband to come in for breakfast. The front door opened and Jonathan Blackwell entered the foyer of the home and made his way into the kitchen.  
  
"Morning, sweetie." He said to his wife, giving her a soft peck on her cheek. "MMMMmmmm..." He took a deep breath in through his nose inhaling the scents around him. "Waffles smell amazing."  
  
"You say that every Saturday." She said smiling. If there was one thing Anna never minded hearing over and over were compliments. "How's the car look?"  
  
"It should run fine now." John crossed over the refrigerator and began rummaging through. "Just some spark plugs from before, and the belt came loose." He settled on the orange juice sitting in the door of the fridge.  
  
"Can you grab the strawberries?" Anna called before he shut the door. "They're in the bottom drawer." John bent back over and opened the drawer and found a pint of fresh strawberries sitting right where they should be. "Can't forget those." Anna continued. "They're Joanna's favorite."  
  
"Is this the necklace?" John put down the strawberries and picked up the box on the table. He shook it around and heard a slight jingle on the inside. "Hope she likes it."  
  
"She will." The sound of footsteps started down the stairs and leapt to a thud at the bottom. Arthur came running into the kitchen, dressed in his baseball uniform and plopped himself down at the table with his father. He grabbed the orange juice and filled up his glass and started to chug it.  
  
"Well, good morning." John lightly smacked the cup Arthur was holding, finally causing him to speak.  
  
"Morning, Dad." He went back to his cup and finished chugging. He slammed the cup down and started to run out of the kitchen.  
  
"Arthur?" Anna yelled into the foyer. "Where are you going? You didn't have breakfast yet."  
  
Arthur's head popped in the doorway. "No time, Mom. I have practice." And his head disappeared again.  
  
"Arthur?" Anna yelled again.  
  
"What?" His voice was more exasperated and in the seconds between the conversations he had managed to find his baseball hat.  
  
"You do know it's your sister's birthday today, right?"  
  
"Yeah I know." Arthur smiled and disappeared once again, followed by the sound of the front door opening.  
  
"Arthur, be home by 5. I want you be here for Joanna's dinner."  
  
"Got it Mom!" And the door shut while Anna watched her son sprint across the lawn to his bike and petal off down the road.  
  
"Where is the birthday girl?" John said impatiently. He started rearranging some of the flowers in the vase. I thought she'd be up right now."  
  
Anna shrugged. "Call her. She's probably ignoring her alarm, like she does every morning." Anna lifted out the last waffle and turned her head over her shoulder in the direction of the stairs. "Joanna! Get up! You're going to be late!"  
  
Heavy steps walked slowly down the steps. Joanna was dressed in her pajamas, her dark brown hair in a messy bun lying low at her neck. "No I'm not." She yawned. "Rehearsal was cancelled." She jokingly glared at her mom. "You'd think I'd be able to sleep in on the day of my birth or something."  
  
"Happy birthday, sweetie." Anna moved over to her daughter and embraced her in a hug. "I got you strawberries. Your favorite."  
  
"Thanks Mom." She let go from the hug and moved over to the table, surveying the trinkets on it. "Morning, Daddy." She wrapped her arms around her dad's shoulders from behind and rocked back and forth.  
  
"Morning, dear. Happy birthday." He patted her arms, as she let go and headed to her usual seat at the table.  
  
Anna took the plate of waffles from the counter and took her own seat at the table, across from her husband. "Arty had to run, Jo. He had practice, but he said he'd be home for dinner." She passed the plate to her daughter and continued on. "And Roger said he'd call from school to talk to you. And Aunt Bev and Uncle Rick are coming over tonight." Anna took a breath in. "It should be a nice birthday for you. Oh shoot..." She stopped. "John, did you get the mail while you were outside? Mom said she'd be sending Jo a card today."  
  
"No, I didn't bother." His attention was turned to pouring a pint of syrup onto his plate. "Jo can go check." He didn't bother looking at his daughter; it was time for the butter now.  
  
"I'll go get it." Jo jumped up from her seat and walked out of the kitchen. She put on her flip-flops by the front door and walked out into the warm April morning. Her shoes crackled across the brick walkway and were silenced as she stepped onto the neatly manicured grass.  
  
Joanna opened the mailbox, in the exact shape of her house and took out a small stack of letters. Two bright envelops on top, one from her grandmother, and one from her brother. The rest of the stack consisted of bills and offers for her parents, all items that never concerned her. She busied herself looking at the stack and looking through and walked back up to the door. On the way up the driveway, Joanna's grip loosened and she dropped one of her birthday cards underneath her mother's car. She bent over and fished through the gravel under the muffler. She finally managed to find it, and she stood back up, placing her hand on the trunk for balance.  
  
A flash of light filled Joanna's eyes and she doubled back and landed on the ground of her driveway, the letters in her hands flying in every direction. Joanna sat straight up in the gravel and looked around. Her breath was heavy and her eyes widened; she could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her eyes were fixed on the car, looking for anything. Did something sting her? Bitten by a bug. She lifted up her hand and examined it. There were no marks, and from what she could see, the car had nothing on it.  
  
She stood up slowly, ignoring the letters that lay littered on the ground. Joanna reached out her hand again, heading for the same place where she had touched it before. She hesitated as her hand floated above the trunk. Slowly, Joanna's slender fingers reached out and lightly tapped the paint.  
  
Another flash of light filled Joanna's eyes. She saw a mass of blurred colors, different things lying on the ground. She saw the family's car, crushed and mangled. A red puddle on the ground next to the wreck. Crushed groceries littering the pavement all around the car. And then Joanna felt it. A tremendous shock that ran through her body, as if someone had stabbed her spine with a frozen knife. The loud honk filled her ears, and a blood-curdling scream rang out. And then a rush of overwhelming sorrow. A crushing feeling that weighed on her heart and traveled down to her stomach. She felt her body begin to shake and convulse and then a darkness filled her vision, but the shaking and sadness continued through her -  
  
Joanna lifted her hand from the trunk and looked around. Maple Valley Rd was still bright and sunny and everything as was it should be. She could feel beads of sweat running down her face and her hands will still shaking.  
  
I'm going crazy. She thought. All the ideas running through her head made her stomach turn on herself. What's wrong with me? She reached down and grabbed as many of the letters that were within her reach, along with a few bits of dirt and gravel and she burst into the foyer, ready to collapse at the front door, dropping the letters and stones inside.  
  
"Joanna?" Anna called. "Are you alright?"  
  
Of course she wasn't alright. She didn't know what was wrong with her. What could she tell her parents? There was nothing she could tell them. You're fine. She told herself. You just...um...a bump on your head from the fall. You're perfectly normal.  
  
"I'm fine, Mom." Joanna's voice was breathy and drained. It was shakier than it was a few moments ago. She straightened her pajama top, wiped the dirt from her hands onto her pants, and took a deep breath. Her steps into the kitchen were slow and calculated. Not too fast, not too slow. It was the first time in her life she had to think about her walking.  
  
"My God, Joanna." Anna leapt from her seat and moved over to her daughter. "Are you alright, Jo? You look like you've seen a ghost." Joanna's eyes traveled to her father, who had barely raised an eyebrow to her mother's cry or own disheveled appearance.  
  
"No, I'm alright." Joanna answered quickly. "I'm fine. I...uh...I slipped in the driveway. I'm alright."  
  
"Honey, your hand." Anna held Joanna's fingers out and stared at her palm. A deep gash had appeared, and was starting to drip blood onto the kitchen floor. "What happened to you?"  
  
Joanna jerked her hand away and balled it into a fist close to her stomach. "Nothing, Mom. I told you. I just slipped. Must fell on a rock or something." She couldn't even feel the pain in her hand. Her head was still swirling, and her stomach was wrenching. "Don't worry about it."  
  
Anna gave her daughter the once over before choosing to dismiss the incident. "Well, go wash your hands in the bathroom. And come here after so I can bandage that." She smiled and gave her daughter a playful tap on the side of her face. "Go on. Birthday girls don't like cold waffles." Anna turned and headed back to the table.  
  
This was a time she felt no need to argue, she headed out of the kitchen, through the foyer and headed towards the bathroom. She stopped again, and examined the unsuspecting car in the driveway and then looking down at her own cut-up hand. What could have caused her to act like that? What made the cut in her hand? She couldn't even begin to imagine. Everything was as it was. From the foyer, everything seemed normal. But those sounds, and feelings and flashes of pictures...they were stagnant in Joanna's mind; burned in there, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake them.  
  
"Mom?" Joanna managed to squeak halfway through the meal. "Are...uh...were you going out today?"  
  
"Yes, Jo. I have to go to the grocery store to get everything for dinner. You wanted ham right?" Anna busied herself at the sink, watching off the plates and scooping strawberry remnants into the trash. "Why did you ask?"  
  
Joanna surveyed her mother's back that was facing and she turned to her father. He had barely spoken a word all through breakfast and now found himself engrossed in the Saturday newspaper. This was like every meal the family shared together. Her eyes traveled away from her father and moved towards the foyer. From her place at the table, she could see the driver's side and windshield of her mother's car; sitting, patiently; unsuspectingly.  
  
"Um...nothing. No reason." 


	2. Peace and Quiet

It had always been a nervous habit of hers. To find something on her and just fuss with it. Today it was her necklace, her birthday present her mother gave her only an hour or so ago. But since that morning, with the car, her head, her hand, it hardly felt to Joanna like her birthday at all.   
  
[i]Where is Mom?[/i] Joanna thought. [i]She should have been home by now.[/i] She was making her 50th lap across the living room carpet. She had answered all the phone calls that came in, hoping it was her mom, but it was always one of her miscellanous friends or relatives to give her some birthday wishes. She had dismissed all the calls hurriedly, not wanting to tie up the phone lines. She knew she was being rude, but she didn't care. Something was going to happen that day. Her mom was in trouble.  
  
Her father, John, who had always paid little attention to his daughter in inconvenient times, was beginning worry about Joanna himself. [i]Acting so weird? On her birthday? Something's not right.[/i] John stood in the doorway to the living room and paused there for a few minutes watching his daughter pace and twirl the chain around her neck. He wanted to say something, but he never was very good at talking to his kids. Especially his teenage daughter. [i]Best to let her mother handle it.[/i] He concluded and left to go search the pantry for something to eat. Joanna never even noticed he was there.  
  
Her legs grew tired of all the pacing and she plopped herself down on the overstuffed couch. She flicked through the television channels, turned the pages of a magazine, tried to finish a jigsaw puzzle, but nothing was working. That feeling sat boiling in her stomach. It wasn't going away. She had to know.   
  
Joanna leapt from her spot on the couch to reach the phone. As her hand hovered over the receiver, a high pitched ring came from the base. Joanna's heart sank. This couldn't be it. This couldn't be something. Her fingers trembled, but the phone kept ringing. She knew she had no choice...but to answer.  
  
"Hello?" Her voice sounded broken.  
  
"Hey kiddo! Did you get my card this morning?" It was only Roger.  
  
"Yeah, it was great. Thanks." She hadn't even thought about opening yet. As far as she knew, it was still sitting in the foyer covered in dirt and a few drops of blood. Or maybe his was still in the driveway.  
  
"Well, did you get what was inside?" His voice sounded very excited. As much as she loved Roger's presents, now was not the time.  
  
"It was great. Thanks. I'll use it everyday." She said into the phone almost as fast she could think. "Listen Rog, I'm expecting Mom to call. I have to get off the line. Bye." She slammed the receiver down before her brother could get a word of argument. John listened closely to conversation his daughter was having. He dismissed the whole situation again. It wasn't any of his business, including the conversation between her and Roger. All he was concerned about was where his dinner was. He grabbed a box of crackers and made his way up the stairs to his office on the second floor.  
  
The room was quiet. In fact the whole house was quiet now. What had happened since that morning? When her mom was leaving to head to the grocery store, the house was cheery and bright, and birds were singing. All she heard was silence now, and it was too dark in the house. [i]Light. I need some light in here.[/i]  
  
The angle that she was at on the couch made it impossible to turn the lamp on, but she tried anyway. She didn't look at the table while she twisted her hand around and over to reach the knob on the far end. Her elbow twitched as hit the light, and knocked the phone and the receiver off the table. She huffed at her clumsiness and climbed off the plush sofa to pick it up.  
  
She hopped on to the floor and picked up the receiver first, since it was the heaviest and placed it back to it's normal space on the table. She bent down again to reach the phone -  
  
Another blinding flash filled her eyes in a split second from touching the phone. She heard sirens, and screams in the background. The crush of metal, the sounds of it twisting out of shape and into unknown forms. Joanna arched her back and writhed in pain. She felt as if her spine was being broken in every place. Her legs were numb at first and then, not there at all. And her head, it swam in colors, blurring together. She could make out some objects, like the red car, a few figures standing around and a few items smashed on the ground, but she couldn't focus on the faces or the objects. All she felt was pain...and sorrow.  
  
From upstairs, where John was enjoying his crackers and a game of Snood, he could Joanna screaming. The most awful bloodcurdling sound he had ever heard. He pushed himself out from behind his desk and practically fell down the stairs trying to reach his daughter. "Joanna!" He kept yelling, as her ran from one end of the house to the other. "Joanna!" But the screams kept coming, and as her came closer to the sounds, thuds came against the floor, as if someone was throwing his daughter, wrestling her to the ground.  
  
He slipped down the last couple of steps. And by the time he reached the entrance to the living room, Joanna's face was balled up in her hands away from view, crying and wailing. And she had completely enclosed her body so it didn't take up more room than the table lamp. "Joanna!" John yelled again, louder than before. He ran to her tried to shake her out of it but she wasn't responding. "Jo! Talk to me sweetie!"  
  
Joanna's body began to quiver as she slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her skin was so pale, it looked translucent. "Daddy." She moved her arms away from her chest and opened them for an embrace from her father.  
  
But John couldn't help but back away. The cut on Joanna's hand was open again, and dripping bright red onto the carpet. But there was a new cut, an even deeper one, across Joanna's chest, right above where her tank top stop starting. Blood was pouring out, changing the white terry cloth material into a sickening shade of red. The gash had appeared right where the pendant of her birthday necklace from her mother laid. "Daddy." Joanna whispered again, and she fell over forward slightly, catching her weakened body on her elbows. "Something awful's happening to Mom."  
  
The phone, which still lay on the floor, covered in blood in the shape of a handprint...started to ring. Joanna and John knew, at that moment, exactly what the call was about. 


	3. Moving Away from It All

Anna Blackwell was buried on the rainy morning of April 27. Her whole family stood around her casket with bleary eyes and weathered faces. Arthur stood in front of his dad, with John's protective hand on his shoulder. Roger stood to her father's right, and Joanna stood to the left, a distance away from the rest of her family. She wore a high cut black dress to cover the gash on her chest, and in her bandaged hand, she held a single red rose. As the casket was lowered into the ground, with the numourous guest blowing their noses and uttering phrases like "What a shame." and "Oh, that poor family.", Joanna threw the red rose, and it landed on the top. That was the last time Joanna would see her mother, before the dirt was thrown on top, and reality was set to sink in.   
  
Anna's car had stalled midturn on the road on her way back from the grocery store. This was nothing knew, and her car had been giving her problems for days now. She tried pumping the gas, putting the car in neutral, all the usual. From down the road, a truck doing 40 miles above the speed limit came up the road. Anna heard the honks, saw the lights, and turned and saw the speeding automobile. She froze; the car hit and slammed the Blackwell family vehicle into a nearby tree. Anna was killed instantly.  
  
=================  
  
[1 month later]  
  
"I appreciate you meeting with me this late in the year, Professor. I realize how far behind Joanna might be in the fall, so I thought getting her here earlier for your some of your summer clases might be her best bet. I think this will be the best place for her right now-" John had a horrible habit of talking constant nonsense and wringing his hands when he was nervous. He sat in the leather chairs in front of the desk of Prof. Charles Xavier, founder of Xavier's School for Gifted Students. Prof. Xavier had been used to the nervous chatter of parents bringing in their children for the first time. John Blackwell's reaction to his facility was no different, even though most of the parents, including John did not know the full truth about the school or the students in attendance.   
  
"We're always happy to welcome new students, no matter what the circumstances." Charles had stopped John somewhere mid-sentance. Charles looked through a small pile of paper work on his desk. "Jo-hanna Blackwell."  
  
"Jo-anna." John corrected.  
  
"Oh, of course." Charles scanned through the few papers, picking up information about his student as he went down. He stopped suddenly and paused. "I see here Joanna's mother, Anna is deceased."  
  
John felt his blood froze. This was a tough subject for him to talk about to other people, especially complete strangers, even though every detail he knew about Anna's accident played over in his head, every second of every day, and it concluded with the picture of his daughter right before they heard the news. "Umm..." He bit his lower lip to keep it from shaking. "Yes, my wife, she died...about a month ago...in a car accident." Tears were starting to form in the corner of John's eyes. Charles lightly tapped a box of tissues on his desk and John graciously took one.   
  
"I'm sorry to hear for you and Joanna's loss, as well as the rest of your family." John waved his hand in gratitude, not being able to get a word out. "Well," Charles continued as he backed his wheelchair from his desk and headed towards the door. "I believe Joanna will find this school very homey and very fitting to her needs for now. She seems to be a bright girl." John nodded. "Now, if you will follow me down the hall. We can discuss any other matters with my collegue, Prof. Gray." Before he left the office, John looked out the window to see his two sons and daughter out on Xavier Greens. Roger and Joanna were sitting on a bench talking, while Arthur was pointing out random objects on the grounds and talking and playing with any kid who would stop and pay him some attention.  
  
"This place is really nice." Roger said. Joanna didn't respond. "I mean, it's got everything you would need." Still nothing. "Dad even got you your own room." He looked over and saw Joanna's eyes just staring at the grass at her feet. "There's horses too. You always said you wanted to learn how to ride -"  
  
"Don't bother, Rog." She finally spoke. "You're not doing any good." Her voice had sounded so sullen and monotone lately.   
  
"GUYS! HEY GUYS!" Arthur had run around a corner and back again. "Guys, there's a pool. A huge swimming pool!" He took off again and disappeared around the same corner.  
  
"What's not doing any good?"  
  
"Your attempt to make me happy. It's not happening." She kicked some of the grass at her feet. "I know why I'm here. You don't have to cover it up."   
  
Roger shifted his weight to face his sister, who continued to find more interest in dirt than in her brother. "Really? And enlighten me why don't you?"  
  
Joanna stopped kicking dirt, but didn't look up. "It's because of Mom." She paused and pursed her lips together. "Dad can't even look at me anymore since it all happened." She paused again, this time looking straight in front of her, letting her vision blur out on a tall boy with blonde hair and a girl with dark brown hair walking by. "He thinks I caused it." She could see the pair staring at her, but she didn't care.  
  
"How can you say something like that? Why would you ever think that?"   
  
She looked at him straight on, and Roger could see dark circles laying beneath her eyes. "Because it's true." Joanna whispered.   
  
As she finished, Arthur came bursting around the corner. "Joanna! You have to come here! You will not believe what I saw in the pool!" He started to jog, but turned around and started tugging on his sister's arm. "Come on!" Joanna grudginly lifted her self from her seat and allowed herself to be dragged across the lawn by her little brother.  
  
Roger relaxed on the bench. He spread out his arms, closed his eyes and titled his head back towards the sky. In his mind, he couldn't help but replay the conversation. He couldn't even imagine where Joanna would get ideas like that.  
  
"Hey champ." John startled his son as he came behind and took Joanna's old seat on the bench. "Where's Arty?"  
  
Roger pointed in the general direction of the pool. "He dragged Jo off to see something by the pool or something. I think he's more excited about her coming to this place than she is." John only grunted. The two sat in silence for a minute or two as Roger wrestled with whether or not he should talk to his father, but in that few moments, he found it best.  
  
"So, Jo said something really strange just now." John didn't answer, he still sat in spot as before. "She said, uh, that she thinks you're sending her away because you can't stand to be around her...that she did something to Mom." John was unresponsive to Roger's attempts to get answers. "Is that true?"  
  
John bit his lower lip again. His voice became professional and monotone. "I believe at this time sending Joanna to a school away from home would serve in her best interest and of this family, and also -"  
  
"Oh, cut the shit, Dad. That's the same line you've been feeding us for weeks." Roger's voice came out louder than he had originally intended. "I need to know. Why now? We probably need Jo here more than we ever have."  
  
"You weren't there Rog." John's voice came out shaky and broken. "You didn't see what I saw. I was there, and I saw her." Even biting his lip could stop the quivering and there was no tissue this time to stop the blots. "You didn't see what she did to my wife. You have no idea."  
  
Roger couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Dad," he tried to gain some level of composure and maturity. "c'mon. You really think Jo would -"  
  
"I know what I saw!" John screamed so loud his voice echoed through the trees. "I saw..what she did to my Anna. And I cannot have THAT living in my house." He pointed with a hard finger in the direction of the pool. "She needs to go." Roger was shocked, beyond anything. To hear his father speak such hateful words about his own flesh and blood; for him to think that his daughter played an instrumental part in the death of his wife; to know that his father was driving further wedges into this already broken family was dumbfounding.  
  
"Dad! Dad!" Arty came running around the corner, with Joanna still in tow. "Dad, you would not believe this! There was a giant ice sculpture, IN THE POOL, IN THE SHAPE OF A SLIDE!" Arty stretched his arms out to demonstrate the size of this ice creation. "Jo saw it too." A smile, which had slightly returned to John's face at his son's excitement disappeared at his daughter's name. He didn't even bother to use it any more, and when someone else did, he couldn't help but shutter.   
  
"Well, kiddo." John spoke in a low voice. "We should be getting on the road." He turned on his heel and headed at a face pace to the parking lot. Arty held Jo's hand the whole way over to the car.   
  
Roger walked on the other side of his sister, putting his arms around her as they walked. "Say goodbye, Arty." John called from the open driver's side door to the car.   
  
Arty threw his arms around Joanna and squeezed tight. "I'll miss you, Jo. I'll see you soon, right?" Joanna didn't bother to answer, almost any answer she coudl give to comfort Arty would have been a lie.   
  
"Take care, Arthur. I love you." She tapped his baseball cap and gave him another quick squeeze before he climbed into the car.  
  
Roger took his sister and held in a tight hug, and he could feel her crying. "I love you, Jo. Be good, okay?" He let go from the hug and held her shoulders square to his. Her cheeks were wet and her eyes were starting to get red. "I WILL call you. You got that?" She nodded. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Everything...will get better. I promise." Roger drew her in again for another tight hug. John honked the horn impatiently, and stood half outside the car. Roger finally let go, and walked backwards to the car, never taking his eyes off his sister. As he opened the passenger door, and lifted his hand and waved goodbye. Joanna did the same. As Roger climbed in and shut the door, Joanna turned towards the direction of her father. The two stood there, one with eyes swollen and dark and sad, and the other with eyes of cold glass. John's face was emotionless as he climbed into the car. He shut the door, and backed away, breathing a sigh of relief as they drove out of the ground of Xavier's school. This was the most relieved he had felt since the whole ordeal.  
  
Joanna was left standing there, never saying goodbye to her father, quietly and sadly, twirling the birthday present around her neck. 


End file.
